


The Goon Squad

by Kingkiwi



Series: Writers [4]
Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, Community - Freeform, Crimes & Criminals, Drama, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Gangs, Graffiti, Homophobic Language, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence, Schmoop, Swearing, Vandalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 14:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4832138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingkiwi/pseuds/Kingkiwi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“When did my respectable establishment turn into some kind of hostel for the city’s criminal underclass?” Jimin despairs, hands held out in supplication.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. God Help Me

**Author's Note:**

> The stories I write for this series keep getting longer and longer. I’m teetering somewhere between T_T and ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“When did my respectable establishment turn into some kind of hostel for the city’s criminal underclass?” Jimin despairs, hands held out in supplication.

He’s standing in the middle of Dark & Wild while the rest of the occupants, including his boyfriend, Jungkook; their associates, Hoseok and Taehyung; and the newly acquired Namjoon and Seokjin stare at him and drink his coffee. 

It was a very interesting couple of minutes when Taehyung found out Namjoon painted over his warehouse mural, but grudges weren’t held for long. Taehyung quickly realized that Namjoon was just completing his court-ordered community service and without that interference, he never would have met Hoseok. Now they got along like a house on fire. 

“I’m not part of the criminal underclass,” Namjoon feels obligated to point out. “I’ve gone straight.”

“’Straight’ isn’t exactly what I’d call it,” Seokjin mumbles under his breath. Taehyung bursts into laughter while Namjoon elbows Seokjin. He’s ducking his head and blushing furiously. 

“You have the most arrests in the room anyway, Namjoon,” Taehyung reminds everyone.

“Oi, I’m here, you know.”

Jimin plants his hands on his hips and looks over to the espresso machine. Yoongi is bent over the counter, head resting on his hand. He smiles lazily. 

“Oh, shut up, Yoongi. You don’t do anything other than sleep when you’re supposed to be working. That’s a crime in my opinion.”

“And Jungkook may always have the cops on his tail, but he hardly ever gets caught. His rap sheet is so tiny it’s almost nonexistent,” Hoseok adds, clutching four colored pencils in one hand and batting Taehyung’s troublesome fingers away with the other. 

“So if you only do a few little crimes, it doesn’t count? Let’s see,” Jimin says, crossing his arms. “We have graffiti artist, graffiti artist, reformed graffiti artist, you, I don’t even know what the hell you do, a lazy employee who may have committed crimes I just don’t know about yet, and the squirrely, smoking, fist-fighting wonder.”

Jungkook grins unrepentantly and sidles up beside Jimin, leaving his mug on the table. It isn’t his table because everyone’s sprawled out around the café. There wouldn’t be enough room for all of them shoved in the corner back anyway. There’s also a very large part of Jungkook, and he’s perfectly willing to admit it, that doesn’t want to share his special place with anyone other than Jimin, not even his friends. 

Practiced hands pull Jimin into a side hug. He gives his boyfriend a tight squeeze before sympathetically patting him on the back. He lets Jimin have that moment of comfort before saying, “You’re a criminal too, man. Aiding and abetting when I’ve been on the run.”

“Oh, screw you!” Jimin says, shoving Jungkook away. He’s not actually angry, but his life is turning into a whirlwind of unwillingly witnessing illegal acts, unannounced visits from at least four different police officers, and people he barely knows asking for his Petty Criminal Discount. Which, by the way, he couldn’t bring himself to abolish even after he started dating Jungkook, mostly because these stupid criminals are his friends. It’s fifty cents instead of $1.50, though. He may be nice, but he’s not a sucker.

“Aw, you know you love us,” Hoseok insists, grinning and flicking muffin crumbs at Taehyung with the end of his green pencil. Yoongi’s eyes are boring into the side of his head from the counter. He’s the one who’s going to have to sweep those up at the end of the day. 

Jiming sighs and props his hands on his hips. “Yeah, for some reason I do.”

“God help me.”


	2. More of a Runner

Jimin’s about to cry. At first he just froze in place, unable to believe his eyes, but now he’s hunched over, hands planted on his thighs like he’s just been punched in the gut. Something inside him is squeezing, hurting terribly even though no one’s touched him. Breathing is a chore, his eyes are watering, full, with tears about to spill over, and his throat is choked and painful.

His café. It’s-. _His café_. 

The front is tagged with sprawling graffiti that loops up the dun-colored brick from corner to corner. Uneven black lines crisscross the brickwork, door, and windows without discrimination, spelling out slurs and curse words. Whoever did this took special care to black out both windows with spray paint. His building looks like it has two black eyes, empty and dark.

Sunlight is just beginning to peek through the buildings and illuminate the horrific mess. Jimin wipes at his eyes and coughs once, completely off-kilter. The graffiti ages his building forty years, makes it look out of place in the quiet, middle-income district. He wouldn’t be surprised to see broken out windows, cigarette butts brushed up against the walls, and a foreclosure sign parked in front of a building tagged like this.

Thankfully, the graffiti doesn’t resemble Hoseok and Taehyung’s work at all–they produce art and would never destroy someone’s business like this. The crazy duo sticks to train tunnels, derelict warehouses, and the odd alleyway or apartment building. What’s in front of him, on the other hand, is true vandalism. 

Jimin steps up to the big window. The flower bed hanging from the sill is still intact, though some of the pink and yellow petals are touched with black. He runs a tentative hand over the thick coat of black paint and wonders who the hell would attack him like this. The café’s name is destroyed, completely unreadable. He numbly traces a black trail of paint over to the door and across to the second window. It veers up sharply into a capital “F.” A step back allows him to better pick out the whole word from the rest of the scribbled chaos. 

“F…A…G.” 

Face flushing with anger and a little bit of humiliation, Jimin aims a kick at the overturned patio table. The metal clangs loudly off the cement. It doesn’t make Jimin feel better. Two things are going to happen: he’s going to scream or he’s going to cry. 

Instead, Jimin violently sets the matching chair upright and drops into it like he’s trying to bruise his tailbone. Both the tears and the scream stay stuffed inside, making his throat feel raw.

Does someone have a problem with him and Jungkook? It’s not like their relationship is any sort of secret; he’s always hanging out in the back corner at his reserved table and neither of them are overly shy when it comes to hugging or kissing in public. In fact, his regular customers tease them both and ask after Jungkook if he’s not at his table. So, is this attack on Dark & Wild specifically calling them out or did some punks just write whatever came to mind and unintentionally strike a nerve?

It’s only when Jimin wrestles his phone from his pocket and fails to open his contact list that he realizes his hands are shaking. He feels vulnerable, violated. His place, the security and comfort of it has been torn apart overnight. His finger hovers over Jungkook’s name. The picture is ridiculous –Hoseok is sticking his fingers into Jungkook’s mouth, trying to pull the corners into a smile, but he’s mostly getting bitten and drooled on. 

Jimin’s positive that Jungkook and his friends have nothing to do with this. They would never betray him and they take pride in their work, but something in his heart hurts. They’re writers; his store gets vandalized with spray paint. Is it really that much of a coincidence? That thought makes him pause just before hitting “call.” Not to mention it’s just past 6:00 in the morning and Jungkook is definitely still asleep. It would be rude to bother him. No doubt he’ll poke his chain-smoking head in later and see the damage then.

With only a second more of hesitation, Jimin scrolls past Jungkook’s name to the non-emergency police number he saved into his phone the first time Jungkook was escorted from the premises by two uniformed officers of the law. Surprisingly, this is the first instance there’s been a need to call it.

It only rings twice before someone answers. “Ah, hello.” Jimin slumps down into the chair and tries not to look at the ruined windows. “Yes, this is Park Jimin. I’d like to file a police report. No, no one’s been injured. I own a business and when I came to open this morning, well, the entire front’s been vandalized…no, it doesn’t look like anyone broke in. I haven’t actually gone inside yet, but the front’s covered in spray paint…”

***

A half hour later, Jimin’s inside, prepping for the day. He has a business to run, after all. The chairs are flipped down and the delivery from the local bakery has already been dropped off by an incredibly sympathetic young woman. Her name starts with a “J,” but the rest of it always slips his mind. Jimin feels bad about it every time she stops by with a delivery, but that doesn’t cement the name in his brain any better. 

Shortly after Jimin entered the café and had a quick look around, J-something practically ran inside, worried that he’d been murdered or mugged. It’s nice to know someone cares, at least. This is when his brain reminds him that Jungkook, the “J” name he actually knows, would definitely care if he knew. He’ll storm in and crack his knuckles and call his bone-headed friends and threaten people until Jimin tells him to knock it off, if only Jimin would just CALL HIM. 

Jimin ignores that thought and finishes wiping down the tables. 

The sound of the bell has him nearly jumping out of his skin (the same thing happened when J-something came in, but luckily she didn’t notice.) It seems he’s still very much on edge. 

Officer Donghae steps inside and pulls off his hat with a solemn nod.

“Good morning, Jimin.”

“Hey, Officer Donghae.” He pulls out the vanilla syrup and starts assembling the man’s usual order.

Donghae leans against the counter, face sympathetic. Jimin has the foreboding feeling that expression is going to have a starring role in his future. “It looks rough out there,” Donghae says. Despite his usual goofy demeanor, it’s clear he’s taking this seriously. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Jimin talks and works at the same time, a skill mastered long ago. If he didn’t already know how to keep his hands busy while talking, there’d be a hell of a learning curve now that he’s dating Jungkook. The ability to entertain his boyfriend and keep his business running at the same time is invaluable. 

He tries to keep his voice even as he recounts his morning for Donghae. It’s hard to keep the emotion from overwhelming him when he describes the moment he walked up and saw the building. It doesn’t help that sunlight is brightening the café in odd strips and triangles as it struggles to pass through the blacked out windows. 

“And don’t you dare bring up Jungkook or any of his friends,” Jimin snaps before Donghae can even open his mouth. 

Imagine how fun it was when Donghae and Eunhyuk were chatting with Jimin while sipping their coffee and Namjoon and Seokjin walked in. It turns out that their mutual friend Officer Jiho was the one who arrested Namjoon for spray painting the side of Seokjin’s apartment building those months ago. It’s a small world, that’s for sure. Luckily, Namjoon doesn’t hold a grudge.

Donghae steps closer to the counter. “I wasn’t going to say anything like that.”

Jimin pumps syrup into the cup with unnecessary force.

“Jungkook might have been at the top of my list of people to talk to for a long time when we were called in for petty theft or criminal mischief,” Donghae tells him. “But it’s not like that anymore. He’s really shaped up since he started coming here and you two got together.”

After a couple of stirs, the coffee’s finished. Jimin slides it across the counter, stopping just before cardboard meets Donghae’s waiting hand. “Jungkook’s always had good in him. He just needs someone to smack him upside the head so he doesn’t forget.” His eyes dare the officer to contradict him. 

“I’ve come to see that,” Donghae admits ruefully but sincerely, handing $4.50 to Jimin and taking his coffee.

The stressed barista drops his head into his hands. “There’s a ‘but’ coming.”

“But he or Hoseok or Taehyung or even Namjoon might know who did this. Even if they don’t, they can probably find out more quickly than we can,” Donghae finishes. He takes a sip. “Even if we don’t like it, graffiti artists, taggers, and gangs overlap very heavily. It can be a suffocatingly small world.” He eyes Jimin for a few seconds. “Have you told Jungkook? I expected him to be here already.”

“No,” Jimin groans, not looking up. “I don’t want to bother him if he’s asleep.” The excuse sounds even weaker out loud than it did in his head.

“Listen,” Donghae sighs. “I’ll finish filing the police report. Call your insurance agent. Me and Eunhyuk will poke around, see if we can find anyone who knows about this or can ID the tags. You,” he says, jabbing a finger at Jimin. “ _Call Jungkook_. Call him. And let me know if he knows anything.”

“Okay, I will.”

“I’m serious, Jimin. Call him.”

“I will!”

“Call him!” And Donghae’s out the door.

Jimin bites the inside of his cheek and stares at the dark screen of his phone. This goes on for probably five or six minutes until he thumps himself on the forehead with a closed fist, picks up the phone, and dials before he has a chance to change his mind. The phone rings and rings and just before the call goes to voice mail, a sleepy voice drawls, “Yeah?”

“Oh, hey Jungkook.” Jimin tries to sound normal, except he’s not really sure how that’s supposed to sound, so he’s probably doing an awful job.

“W’cha need?” He can hear blanket noises and squeaking bed springs like Jungkook’s turning over or getting up. 

“Just. Can you come to the café?” Yeah that’s not alarming at all. Great job Jimin.

“Who do I need to punch?” He certainly sounds more awake now.

Jimin pauses.

“Jimin, so help me…”

“No one! At least not yet.” Jimin fiddles with a knob on one of his shiny machines. “Just put pants on and get over here.”

“See you in ten.” The connection ends abruptly. Considering Jungkook is still in bed and his apartment is a 15-minute drive away, several laws are probably about to be broken. Good thing Donghae left.

It’s almost 7:00, so Jimin flips the sign to OPEN. He’s hallway across the room before the realization sets in that no one will be able to see the sign through the vandalized window. That almost sets him off into that space between screaming and crying again, but he steels himself and thinks of the time Hoseok tried to vault over the front counter thanks to Taehyung’s egging, caught his toes on the edge, and went over face-first. He was really pissed at the time, but thinking back on it always fills him with fondness for the bunch of idiots he calls friends.

He pulls the plastic sign from the window and steps outside to prop it up in the window sill. Hopefully the offensive graffiti won’t put off too many customers. The regulars will probably still show, but he can easily imagine normal passers-by taking one look and hurrying past. Nothing like in-your-face reminders of the danger of the city to kill business.

At 7:05, the door bangs open and four people pour inside looking various levels of disheveled. Hoseok appears to be wearing pajama pants, unless flannel pants sprinkled with yellow ducks are the new street attire. Ducks aside, he’s asking “Are you alright?” but it’s half drowned out by Jungkook’s angry, “What the hell?” and Taehyung and Namjoon are saying something to each other that he can’t hear over the sudden racket. 

Four for the price of one. Leave it up to Jungkook to take Jimin’s odd call and assume the worst. Hell, he called in what amounts to back-up at seven o’clock in the morning and dragged them all down to his café when Jimin could’ve been making a booty call. 

Despite his participation in public displays of affection, Jungkook typically does his best avoid showing worry or concern. Physically, that is. The posse that followed him inside speaks for itself. Nonetheless, Jimin’s surprised when his boyfriend hurries over, grabs at his shoulders, pauses for a second, and finally yanks Jimin into a tight hug. 

The rest of them are hanging back and poking around the shop to make sure the inside hasn’t been touched. 

Jimin latches onto Jungkook gratefully. Some of the weight has been lifted from his shoulders now that he doesn’t have to deal with this alone. Friggin’ Donghae was right, not that he’ll be telling him that any time soon.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks right into his ear. The sound stays between just the two of them.

Jimin grinds his face into Jungkook’s neck. It’s nice, but doesn’t make his simmering rage and hurt go away. “It happened before I got here. They didn’t break in.” That’s about the closest he’s coming to answering the question. No, he’s not okay, but it could’ve been a lot worse. He’ll deal. Or explode. There’s about an even chance of both at the moment.

When they pull apart, the café’s empty again. Jimin shares a look with Jungkook and follows him outside. Hoseok and Taehyung are muttering to each other and gesturing at the graffiti, expressions dark. Namjoon’s leaning against the patio table, talking on the phone and looking similarly serious. The devious duo breaks off their hushed conversation when Jungkook and Jimin approach. 

Namjoon straightens and ends his call. “That was Seokjin. He’s sorry he can’t be here. He’s-“

“-the only one who’s gainfully employed, I know,” Jimin interrupts wryly. “Covering a shift?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says with relief.

“Hey! I have a job,” Hoseok protests. “I work nights.”

“Playing dice isn’t a job.”

“No, I really work at a place!”

Taehyung slaps a hand over Hoseok’s mouth.

Jimin gives them a look. “Anyway, Officer Donghae stopped by earlier.”

“At least he’s doing something useful,” Jungkook mutters. Jimin pointedly ignores that because Donghae hasn’t hassled Jungkook for months and they all know it.

“We know none of you had anything to do with this, but he thought, and I agree, that you might be able to recognize the tags or at least know someone who can.”

Hoseok and Taehyung look offended at the sideways implication that they could have been involved, but settle down right away. They share a look that Jimin’s can’t really read, but it makes him instantly suspicious. They know something.

“Tell me.”

For a second, it looks like they’re going to bullshit him. Taehyung’s opening his mouth and avoiding eye contact, but Jimin won’t let them. 

“This is my café. My baby. And without it, you assholes wouldn’t have anywhere to go. So. Just. Tell. Me.” He glares balefully, letting some of that rage boil to the top. They probably recognize the handiwork defacing his building and don’t want him to get involved out of some misguided attempt to protect him. 

Their group has come a long way from the single surly Jungkook who ducked in while on the run, to dragging an unhappy Hoseok with him on his fourth visit (and now that Jimin realizes he was the guy on the patio, the whole night’s become ten times funnier), to adding Taehyung, Namjoon, and Seokjin. Throw in Yoongi and he has a regular crew of overprotective, hyperactive (or lazy) thugs who haunt his café and drink all of his coffee. They try to look after him like a bunch of clumsy mother ducks because he’s quote-unquote “not into our kind of shit.” Like they’re big time criminals and he has to worry about mob hits or something similarly ridiculous. 

“Taehyung thinks he recognizes the tags,” Hoseok blurts out. He’s always cracked like an egg under pressure.

“Taehyung?”

They’re all staring at him and to his credit, he doesn’t even fidget. He does grimace, though.

“C’mere.” The group follows him to the smaller window. Deft fingers pick out and trace a messy, stylized skull. “This, and the way this ‘A’ is written,” he points to the A in FAG, “To me, these say Aces. They’re a fairly well-known gang with tags all over the city. I’m mostly familiar with their symbols because of other writers who’ve ended up on their bad side and given me warnings.”

“I’ve never heard of them!” Jimin cries, throwing up his hands. “I haven’t done anything to them.”

Hoseok hums in thought.

“Whatcha thinking?” Taehyung nudges him with an elbow.

“The skull. It’s sloppy and off in the corner. If this is an official declaration or attack, the Aces would leave their recognizable symbols in a more prominent place. Like everything would center around the skull or the ‘A.’”

“So what?” Namjoon asks. “It’s some jerk-offs imitating Aces tags for kicks?”

“Could be.” Hoseok shrugs. “Or it might be some Aces jerk-offs just fucking around without orders from the big boss. Can’t really tell.”

“Either way, what the hell am I going to do?” Jimin demands. “I’m gonna lose business with the front looking like this, not to mention I have no idea if the people who did this will come back and try something else.” He crosses his arms and tries to control his breathing. He really wants to kick something despite how little it helped the first time. Not to mention the table’s already taken its fair share of abuse.

Taehyung and Hoseok look at each other again, leaving Jimin no option but to believe they share a form of telepathy. Namjoon is added to their silent communication, then the three of them flick a look at Jungkook. He’s standing slightly behind Jimin, meaning his expression is hidden, but if feels like there’s a “silent manly look” club that Jimin hasn’t been invited to join.

Before Jimin can call them out, Jungkook pulls him back and winds arms around his chest. Hoseok and Taehyung turn back to the storefront and Namjoon’s already on the phone.

“Don’t worry,” Jungkook assures him. “We’ll handle this.”

Jimin holds onto the arms looped around him and just soaks in the feeling of being held. “I’m not sure if that’s supposed to be comforting, because it’s just kind of terrifying.”

Jungkook squeezes him and smiles. 

***

The next morning, Yoongi accompanies Jimin when he leaves to open the café. 

Even the easygoing barista was visibly upset when he arrived for his shift the day before. Hoseok, Taehyung, and Namjoon were already gone by the time Yoongi arrived, but Jungkook was still around, smoking on the street corner with sharp eyes or bugging the regulars. Thank god for regulars who are willing to brave just about anything to get their fix. Yoongi walked inside the café, brows drawn, and barely got a word out before he was assaulted and dragged off into a corner by twitchy Jungkook. 

Jimin was too busy to eavesdrop, but it looked like said boyfriend gave Yoongi a rundown on what happened, some instructions, and maybe a couple of threats. Jungkook’s serious face looks pretty threatening as a rule, so it’s difficult to tell. When the barista finally escaped his clutches, he plodded into the back to slip into an apron and hide from Jungkook.

“Hey, boss,” Yoongi drawled in greeting, stepping next to Jimin to wash his hands. “Don’t worry. From what I hear, they’ve got it handled.”

Which leads them to now. It’s 6:30 in the morning and a yawning Yoongi is trailing behind Jimin like an sleep-deprived duckling.

They implemented the buddy system on him. On his grown-ass adult self.

Imagine Jimin’s surprise when he left for work this morning and almost tripped over his employee, who just happened to be dozing against his door. And to his eternal surprise, Yoongi hasn’t complained once about the early hour or threatened to take a nap under the counter. Which, let’s be real, is probably going to happen anyway.

Seeing the defaced storefront again in the morning light is a blow. Not as bad as yesterday, but it still hurts. Jimin feels like it’s being rubbed in his face; it isn’t a dream that some people are actively trying to hurt him. Or don’t give a shit about him at all and think ruining his livelihood is a good way to keep the boredom at bay. It’s shitty either way. 

Jimin and Yoongi set up the cafe in comfortable silence. The bakery girl is just as sympathetic as she was yesterday. Jimin’s grateful when Yoongi handles her. He’s usually a pretty chatty guy, but yesterday drained him. All the regulars wanted to talk about what happened, ask how he’s going to fix it, offer their sympathy and reassurances that they’ll keep coming back. All of this was very touching, but it left Jimin exhausted and slightly crabby by closing time. Even a full night’s sleep hasn’t completely cured his bad mood. 

This isn’t helped by the fact that business was noticeably slower yesterday. The drawer cashed out at $100 less than usual at the end of the night. If he catches a steady stream of days that bad, trouble is on the horizon.

The morning starts slowly. Surprisingly, Jungkook and the rest of the crew are nowhere to be seen. Jimin’s spidey senses are tingling. He just knows they’re off getting in trouble. Tension refuses to leave his shoulders; he figures he’s waiting for something to give. The cops are going to show up, dragging Jungkook by the scruff of his neck, or the gang members are going to return to up the ante. 

In Yoongi notices his boss’s increasingly dark mood and sharp, staccato movements, he doesn’t say anything.

At 9:00, Jimin helps an extremely kind old couple that he’s never seen before. Their sincere show of concern and gentle pat on his hand actually lifts some of the black cloud looming over his head. When their coffee is ready, Jimin calls for Mr. and Mrs. Lee. The man slips a tip into his palm and Jimin watches as they take seats on the patio. It’s nice to know that the graffiti isn’t scaring off all the new customers.

Mr. and Mrs. Lee are followed by a steady stream of patrons that keep Jimin and Yoongi busy until lunch time. The tip jar is full to the brim, Yoongi looks like he’s sleeping standing up, the café is filled with the fluctuating murmur of hushed conversation, and Jimin’s terrible mood evaporated somewhere along the way. This is one of the busiest Saturdays he’s had in a while, to be honest. Business increasing because of the graffiti is ridiculous, especially since the customers coming in haven’t been rough types at all.

He can still see Miss Hahn and her fiancé tucked into a table across from the pastry case. A mom and her twin daughters, ten-year-olds who gleefully introduced themselves as Yunseo and Eunseo Cho (and told him he’s pretty), are sitting with the Hahns. Apparently they know each other from somewhere. A Mr. Yoo walked in a quarter ‘til nine, looking very regal in a suit and bowtie. He had quick, intelligent eyes and a face that looked like he was always a second away from a smile. Jimin’s jaw almost dropped when the older man tipped him a $20 bill before taking his coffee outside and joining the Lees. 

The influx of customers is a huge relief, but Jimin smells something fishy. All of these people seem to know each other, for one. 

Seokjin and Namjoon appear around one o’clock, each ordering tea and a cookie. They tip Jimin when he’s turned away to pull the cookies from the case, but he still catches Namjoon trying to push the money into the overflowing glass jar from the corner of his eye. Though totally unnecessary, the gesture makes him smile. The insurance is being frustratingly evasive, so the window replacements are probably on him, and honestly, he needs all the help he can get. 

It’s when Seokjin grabs his tea and stops to say something to almost every customer and they all greet him with pleased familiarity that the pieces start to come together. 

“You haven’t had any more trouble?” Namjoon asks, breaking his cookie apart. The way he says it though, is telling Jimin that it isn’t really a question. Namjoon already knows that everything’s as ship shape as it gets around here.

Jimin glares at him suspiciously. “Nooo…”

“Awesome,” Namjoon beams. 

Movement catches Jimin’s eye and he sees Seokjin standing just outside the door, chatting animatedly with Mrs. Lee and Mr. Yoo, who has a hand on his shoulder. 

“So.” He turns back to Namjoon. “Is it just Seokjin’s apartment building spying on me, or is it yours too?”

“Uh.”

“You-, you-.” Jimin takes a deep breath, marches around the corner to grab Namjoon’s arm, and drags him into the tiny back room. Yoongi only spares them a glance before stepping up to handle the next customer. 

“You sent the _elderly_ as _look outs_ to watch for gang activity?” he half-yells, dropping Namjoon’s arm. 

“Hey,” he raises his hands defensively, “I can’t control what Seokjin does or does not do. I tried once; it didn’t work. And word gets around, that’s just how these people are.” Namjoon grins, though, clearly unrepentant. “Can’t you be happy that you’re getting so much business and ignore the rest?”

Jimin can feel his anger deflating and he sighs. “Yes, I’m happy, of course I am. But I don’t want to put all of these nice people in potential danger.” 

“I’ve been told Mr. Yoo’s pretty scrappy.”

“Really, Namjoon?” Jimin asks in disbelief. “I’m not pitting a 65-year-old man against hypothetical gang members.”

“I was kidding.” Mostly. Namjoon has actually seen Mr. Yoo fall into a boxer’s stance once and the man clearly knows what he’s doing.

Jimin’s muttering to himself and turning away.

“Hey.” Namjoon snags his arm. He may not be as close to Jimin as Jungkook or even Hoseok and Taehyung, but they’re still friends and he cares. It’s not often you find someone as wholeheartedly good as Jimin. He’s something worth protecting. 

Jimin looks at him, eyebrow raised and waiting.

“Look, we’re just worried about you, okay? What’s done is done and I don’t wish Seokjin had kept it to himself. So just let us all help.” It comes out more plaintive than he intended, but Namjoon can see Jimin’s whole demeanor softening and that makes it worth it.

“Fine. I get it, you sap.” Jimin aims a gentle punch at his friend’s shoulder. Namjoon slugs him back and they both return to the front, where Yoongi is subtly leaning away from a grandma who telling him “you’re just the cutest thing, aren’t you? Are you seeing anyone?”

***

A week passes by. Various tenets from Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartments continue to fill his shop at all hours. Miss Hahn and her fiancé have practically taken up residence at the table by the pastry case. The young professional has tried every drink on the menu and changes her order every day. Her fiancé usually gets tea and a scone in the evenings while Miss Hahn types away on her laptop and kicks him in the shin when he teases her.

Namjoon, Seokjin, Hoseok, and Taehyung have been around a lot more as well, ducking in and out between jobs. They eat his food and lurk and distract him and Yoongi when they’re trying to complete orders or clean. 

On Wednesday, Jimin has finally had enough and tells them they can leave or make themselves useful. It turns out Taehyung is a surprisingly efficient dishwasher and it only takes one bashful smile from Namjoon to charm every old lady within a ten-foot radius. 

Jungkook’s pretty much living in Jimin’s back pocket. Jimin almost dies of a heart attack when his boyfriend actually volunteers to help him close up shop one night. Of course, Jungkook hasn’t been letting Jimin walk home alone, so that’s probably the reason why. The buddy system protection detail hasn’t lightened in the slightest. Jimin deals with being walked to and from work every day by one of the goon squad. Groceries are either picked up for him or someone accompanies him to the store. He’s just lucky they let him go to the bathroom without an escort.

Jimin complained about being treated like a child after the first few days, but dropped it at when he saw Jungkook’s pinched expression and the way he said, “I’m not letting anything happen to you.” 

It’s been a week and the black graffiti still scrawls across the front of Dark & Wild. The boys tried to scrub it off, and while the color lightened a bit, most of it clung stubbornly to the brick. The windows are still a total loss. Thanks to the increased business, Jimin almost has enough to replace both of them. Thankfully, Mrs. Cho, the woman with the twin girls, knows someone who knows someone who can put in new windows for cheap in return for free coffee while they work. 

Jimin twists the key in the lock of the café’s front door, mentally calculating how much coffee three or so workers can consume in a couple of hours. Probably a lot. Jungkook’s leaning against the low railing that surrounds the patio, a fog of smoke blurring his features in the darkness. When Jimin double checks the lock and pockets the keys, Jungkook twists and flicks the cigarette butt to the sidewalk on the other side of the railing. They walk out together, Jungkook barely pausing to grind the smoldering cigarette out with his shoe. His hands fidget for his pockets, where the lighter and pack of cigs are stowed away, but he refrains. Jimin might not complain about the smoking as much anymore, but Jungkook knows he doesn’t like it. 

The night is cool with a brisk breeze every once and while and the moon’s already out, casting pale light onto the quiet streets. It’s a short walk to Jimin’s apartment. Jungkook will probably stay a while and try to put the moves on Jimin, after which he’ll stay the night or disappear back to his apartment. Jimin’s of the opinion that they just need to move in together already, especially since Jungkook spends more time at Jimin’s apartment and café than he does at his own apartment, but he’s been too nervous to bring it up. 

The walk is refreshing after a day cooped up in the café. They don’t talk much. Jimin can’t help but to notice Jungkook’s twitching fingers. It looks like they’re making a break for the pack in his pocket every couple of seconds, but remember they’re not allowed. On top of that, Jungkook keeps biting his lip, tugging on it with his teeth, and every once and while Jimin catches a flash of tongue. 

Jimin tries really hard not to stare at his mouth. 

Feeling his stare, Jungkook glances over and graces him with a smile. Then he’s right back to it. It’s indecent, that’s what it is. This carries on for at least five minutes before Jimin gets fed up that Jungkook’s driving him a little nuts and doesn’t even realize it. He pulls down on his boyfriend’s shoulder, which makes his whole body dip down, and pecks him on the lips. 

Jungkook startles, but gamely raises an eyebrow and smirks in that smug, knowing way he has.

“You!” Jimin half-stutters in explanation. He didn’t expect to feel so embarrassed about a tiny little kiss, but Jungkook’s looking at him like it’s perfectly understandable that Jimin isn’t able to resist his innumerable charms. “Your fingers keep twitching and you keep biting your lip! I can tell you want something in your mouth and it’s driving me crazy.”

There’s only silence for a few seconds before Jungkook starts to cackle, ending with a promising leer.

“I meant a cigarette!” Jimin’s flustered even though there’s no one around to overhear. He bats at Jungkook’s shoulder. “I meant you could smoke if you wanted to. Not, not whatever you’re thinking.”

Jungkook sidles closer and ducks his head down conspiratorially. “That can wait ‘til we get home, hm?”

Jimin’s face turns scarlet but he can’t bring himself to deny it. 

Jungkook laughs again, but this time it’s pleased and a little soft and makes Jimin squirm. “Don’t mind if I do, then.” In all honestly, something is making him feel jittery and a smoke is just the thing to mellow him out. A recovering Jimin watches as the cigarette appears between his lips in record time and he’s trying to get the lighter to work, but the flame keeps sputtering out in the breeze. Jungkook cups a hand around the lighter and cigarette, half paying attention to Jimin’s hand, which is tugging him around a corner. It still won’t light.

“Problems?” Jimin asks, slowing to a stop. Jungkook bumps into him a little before stopping as well. 

“Mm, won’t light.”

“Here.” Jimin bends his head in close and cups his hands around Jungkook’s. 

After a few snaps that leave sparks flashing in the dark cocoon of their hands, a flame springs up and Jungkook quickly drags it over the end of his cigarette. A small plume of smoke escapes his mouth, making Jimin scrunch his nose up and lean away. 

Something skitters across the sidewalk in front of them, a rock or a stick. 

“Hey! If it isn’t the stupid tagger and his little _boyfriend_!”

“Oh yeah, it’s our lucky day.”

Laughter.

Jimin and Jungkook’s heads both snap up. There are three guys in front of them, jazzed up and jeering. Jungkook’s eyes narrow in recognition and though he doesn’t have a real reason to think so, Jimin has a feeling that these gents may know something about the spray paint covering the front of his building. 

It’s a suffocatingly small world. 

“So it was you fuckers.” Jungkook’s fist is clenching, but his shoulders have dropped back into their characteristic slouch. The other hand is busy pulling the cigarette away from his mouth so he can exhale a lazy stream of smoke. It looks like he’s going to play it cool as much as he’s able. Jimin knows, he’s heard it from Hoseok and Taehyung enough, that his boyfriend has always been more of a runner than a fighter. He can hold his own when it comes down to it, but he’d much rather avoid the bruises altogether. And it’s surprising how no one makes “runner” sound like “coward.” Fist fighting doesn’t really work with the cops anyway, so his fleeing instincts are honed in a way his fighting senses aren’t, hence the slouching. Jungkook is about to try to bluff or bullshit their way out of this. 

The three men step closer and fan out a little, closing off about half of their potential escape routes. 

“Thought I recognized those shitty-ass tags,” Jungkook drawls. He subtly moves in front of Jimin, trying to block him from their view, as futile as it may be. 

“Oh, really?” The guy who seems to be the leader of this ragtag band leans into Jungkook’s space. “I was thinkin’ that you’d remember the feeling of me beating the shit out of you.”

And Jimin’s thrown back to that time when Jungkook stumbled into to his café, bloodied up and only half-conscious, only to collapse in the back room. Him and Yoongi had to carry him out to the car and make a mad dash to the emergency room. If he remembers correctly (he does because seeing Jungkook like that isn’t something easily forgotten), it all happened in the first place because Hoseok and Taehyung were painting on a wall while Jungkook served as a look out. It turned out that what he now knows to be the Aces gang recently claimed the area they were working in and took issue with their writing. Everyone split. Taehyung and Hoseok made a clean getaway, but Jungkook was caught and “taught a lesson” before he could make an escape.

Fear is ramping up inside of Jimin. These guys are not messing around. 

“We thought one of those other sissies you were tagging with owned that café, but just before we hit it, we found out that it’s your boyfriend,” the second goon tells them. He’s short, significantly shorter than Jimin, even. “God, that’s even better.” They all laugh. 

Jimin can see Jungkook’s fury in the line of his shoulders and the clench of his jaw, but it’s well hidden behind half-lidded eyes and that damn slouch. Taking stock of himself, Jimin feels like he might just be in shock. They’re being accosted on the street in the early evening by homophobic gangsters who vandalized his business because of some whacked out revenge scheme. And he might just be about to get beaten up by said gangsters. 

He does know whether to laugh or cry, so he stands still and watches Jungkook and wonders when they should make a break for it. Jimin’s never seriously thrown a punch at someone in his life and he doesn’t want to start now. Though his heart rages at these guys, his head knows he’s not going to win a fight. 

Unsatisfied by the lack of response that draws, the third gangster (this one exceptionally ugly), snarls, “We’ll burn the fucking place to the ground.” He mimes an explosion with his hands and flicks his lighter. The small flame burns in the darkness before sputtering out in the wind. 

That does it. 

Jimin’s always heard that Jungkook’s a runner, but the way he leaps at the lead gangster and pounds into his face, fists so fast they’re practically a blur, makes him wonder. Shorty and Ugly step back in shock as Jungkook and the leader crash to the cement with a muffled yell and start grappling and throwing punches. Jimin can’t run now, that’s for sure. Unfortunately, Ugly and Shorty aren’t as stupid as they could be so after a moment of shock, they both run at Jimin. 

He manages to dance around the first guy, but Shorty’s punch catches him in the side of the head. Jimin tumbles to the ground and catches himself on palms that are instantly skinned and stinging. The pain is odd and overwhelming. No one’s ever punched him before or seriously tried to injure him. It’s wrong and unreal. Shorty isn’t in the middle of an existential crisis and comes at Jimin while he’s down and Ugly is on his way over. The sounds of Jungkook and the leader are far away and strangely muffled, probably because of the crazy noise of his pounding heart. 

A few solid kicks to Shorty’s leg makes him back off, but he can’t keep track of Ugly, who kicks him in the side. Jimin grabs his leg and twists to send him staggering and gets another lucky kick into Shorty’s crotch. It takes a few precious seconds to get to his feet. He searches wildly for Jungkook in the darkness and finally sees him and Leader up against the nearest wall. It looks like Jungkook’s got him pinned at the moment, delivering a couple of solid blows into the guy’s ribs. 

The rough shove that comes from behind takes Jimin by surprise and he lurches forward, right into Shorty, who kindly greets him with an elbow and a fist. Ah sidewalk, his old friend. Jimin’s down again and this time they don’t give him a chance to get up, keeping him laid out with their feet and fists. Ugly tries to drag him by the collar, but Jimin twists and fights and covers his face. Everything’s hurting and he can taste blood from his nose or mouth or both. 

He hears a roar, sees a shadow flash, and he’s not being hit anymore. Jimin cautiously peeks out of his arms, trying to breathe shallowly to keep his ribs from creaking. Jungkook has Shorty on the ground, unconscious. Despite the lack of light, he can make out blood smeared across Jungkook’s face and hands. His shirt is ripped by the collar and he’s breathing hard, glaring at Ugly, who’s keeping his distance. Jungkook takes a half step forward and Ugly skitters back toward the leader, who’s pulling himself together over by the wall. 

Jimin can’t see Jungkook’s expression, but it makes the gangster back away like he’s seen a ghost. When Ugly hits some kind of predetermined distance, Jungkook turns and drops into a crouch over Jimin. “You okay?” He sets a gentle hand on the side of Jimin’s head, not wanting to accidentally touch any tender spots. 

“I’ll live,” Jimin groans in reply, forcing already stiff muscles to cooperate. 

Jungkook grabs his hands and carefully tugs him to his feet. “Let’s get out of here.”

They both look over at the gangsters. Ugly’s by the leader now, who isn’t quite upright, and they still have the unconscious Shorty to deal with. It’s time to get the hell out of there while they still can and lick their wounds at home. 

“This isn’t over!” Ugly yells when he sees them staggering away. He pushes away from the wall, but doesn’t follow. “Don’t think it’s even close to being over, you fuckers!”

Jungkook and Jimin don’t respond. They look at each other and Jimin can read the worry in Jungkook’s scrunched brow and disgruntled frown. If the vandalism made everyone paranoid, this is going to send them into hardcore lockdown mode. In all honesty, that doesn’t sound too bad to Jimin. Throwing glances behind them the entire way, they hobble to Jimin’s apartment. 

***

“So much for being more of a runner than a fighter,” Jimin comments, trying not to move his face. He stares up at Jungkook, who’s carefully applying a bandage to a scrape on his forehead.

“Stop moving.”

Something tickles in Jimin’s nose. It quickly turns into a toe-curling, oozing feeling and it’s all he can do to not rip himself away from Jungkook’s hand and find a tissue.

“I’m serious. Stop squirming!”

“Uh, I think my nose is bleeding again.”

Jungkook sits back and snags a piece of gauze to stuff under Jimin’s nose. Jimin holds it for a second before taking a quick look. Yup, it’s bloody.

“Put that back,” Jungkook orders. Jimin slowly returns the gauze to his upper lip. They’re staring at each other, Jungkook on the coffee table and Jimin on the couch with the guts of a first aid kit scattered across their legs and the table. 

“So,” Jimin mumbles from beneath the gauze. “What’s with you jumping that guy like he ratted you out to the cops?” A stupid move, perhaps, but one that makes Jimin feel warm and fuzzy inside. 

Jungkook busies himself with cleaning a scrape on his knee, pursing his lips.

“C’mon.” He prods his boyfriend in the leg with one of the few body parts that isn’t hurting (meaning the big toe of his left foot). 

The alcohol wipe gets tossed to the side with all the other first aid detritus. Jimin watches carefully, eyes drawn to Jungkook’s bruised, raw knuckles.

“He threatened to burn down your café.” The words come out slow, like warm taffy being stretched inch by inch. The tone is just about as serious as he’s ever sounded to Jimin. Jungkook doesn’t look up and his arms are curled up around his waist like they’re holding everything inside. 

“He was probably just talking shit, you know,” Jimin replies. Though his tone is intentionally light, he’s busy gauging Jungkook’s face for a reaction. His boyfriend is surprisingly skilled at hiding what he’s thinking, pulling on that delinquent mask. It’s worked well for so long because he’s been taken at face value, but Jimin isn’t put off that easily. Instead, he tugs one of Jungkook’s hands into his own and inspects the broken skin.

Jungkook snorts. “Doesn’t matter. I can’t let that stand. Can’t let them go thinking we’ll take shit like that.” He slips his hands from Jimin’s grip and grasps both of his shoulders instead, pulling them close until their foreheads bump. “The vandalism was already too far. I can’t let them hurt you again.”

Despite the heaviness of the situation, Jimin feels a grin coming on. Jungkook is like a goddamn butterfly coming out of his badass cocoon at moments like this. As endearing as it is that his big, bad boyfriend wants to protect him, Jimin doesn’t want him going around getting into fights. Jungkook has had enough run-ins with the police that he can’t really afford to get in much more trouble before the cops and judges bring out the serious consequences. Not to mention fighting scares the crap out of Jimin and he’s man enough to admit it. “Just…try and be careful who you start fights with, okay? We could both do without the bruises.”

Jungkook, clearly taking this as a reprimand for getting them hurt, shuts his eyes and the small smile he was sporting vanishes. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jimin soothes, pushing his forehead into Jungkook’s before he can pull away. “I’m not mad. I was scared, yes, and a lot of me hurts, but we’re both okay. I just don’t want you to get hurt anymore either, got it?” Jungkook stops trying to move away, but doesn’t open his eyes. “Open your eyes, please.” His whole face scrunches for a second before Jimin sees his eyes slide open at a glacial pace. 

“Do me a favor.”

“Hm?” Jungkook hums. Jimin can feel the other man’s warm breaths on his oversensitive busted lip. 

He stares into Jungkook’s eyes, making sure to hold his attention. “That feeling of worry you have when you think I might be hurt, like when you heard about the café or stood in front of me before the fight or tackled that guy to the ground, think of how all that feels.”

Jungkook has that “Really, feelings?” expression that he gets whenever he thinks Jimin’s being overly emotional and wishes he would stop talking. 

“Do it or I’ll poke your wounds.”

Jungkook’s eyes slide shut in a show of supposed acquiescence. Jimin gives it a few seconds.

“Alright,” he says, squeezing his hands around Jungkook’s wrists. Their eyes meet again. “It sucks, right? It really, really sucks.”

Unusually compliant, Jungkook nods without any smartass comments.

Jimin smiles. “That’s exactly how I feel when you’re running from the police or getting hurt, especially if it’s because of me.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen and his mouth drops open the smallest bit.

“Oh.”

He says it like this is a revelation. He says it like Jimin’s willingness to literally harbor a fugitive indicated nothing except mental instability, like he thought all this stupid affection was one way. Jimin doesn’t know whether he should find this offensive or just sad. Either he’s done a complete shit job showing his boyfriend that he cares or Jungkook is the most unobservant, low self-esteem wannabe gangster on the planet, thinking that Jimin doesn’t worry about him. 

“’Oh’ is right, you asshole. Take care of yourself! You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days.” Jimin drops back into the couch. “I kind of love your stupid face, you know.”

After dropping that on Jungkook, Jimin peeks over to check his expression. 

It looks like someone just told him Santa is real after all. The moron’s all big eyes and slumped shoulders, staring at Jimin with a wobbly bottom lip. Jimin can feel himself blushing, but hey, it’s true. All that stuff about worry and caring adds up to one encompassing feeling that goes by a simple and well-known name. Jungkook’s just been too oblivious to notice. 

In a split second Jungkook’s sliding off the coffee table and half into Jimin’s lap. His “I love your stupid face, too” is mostly lost in the creaking of the couch springs and Jimin’s yelp, but not completely. Jungkook dips forward to drop a short kiss on his lips, careful of the split lip. Jimin chases him as he pulls away and plants a wet one on Jungkook’s mouth, translating the giddy feeling in his stomach into generous use of tongue. 

When they finally pull back to breathe, Jungkook’s cheeks are flushed red and there’s this happy little curl to his mouth that he can’t quite hide. Instead, he flops backward onto the rest of the couch. “I’ll call in backup. This isn’t over.” Though Jungkook’s head is buzzing, he forces himself to get back to the practical issues. (But hey, Jimin loves him, you know.) 

“Okay, you unromantic asshole.” Jimin shoves Jungkook’s legs off his lap, careful of the coffee table, and starts to collect the band-aid wrappers and bloody gauze for the trash. “What are we gonna do?”

Jungkook bites his lip and looks up from underneath his bangs. He’s a little vulnerable right now, unsure, but will undoubtedly try to sound like he knows what they’re doing. “Gotta talk to the guys now that this,” he gestures to his and Jimin’s bruised faces, “has happened. We’ll figure it out.”

Jimin just nods and continues to clean as Jungkook calls everyone and gives them the cliff notes version of what happened. 

Hoseok, Taehyung, Namjoon, and Seokjin storm into the apartment like a whirlwind not much later despite the late hour. It’s probably good that Jimin and Jungkook already patched each other up because none of the other boys are calm enough sit still, let alone dress wounds. 

“What the fuck?” Namjoon hisses while Hoseok is running hands over a resisting Jungkook. That wild part of Namjoon that lurks in the back of his eyes sometimes, (that got him dragged into a cell the first time, fighting all the way), is resurfacing, emerging like a banished shadow. Seokjin’s dealing with the situation the best, but that’s because he’s typically levelheaded and has put up with more than enough of Namjoon’s shit. 

“Are you okay?” Taehyung asks Jimin. They’re secluded in the kitchen. There’s ibuprofen somewhere on the top shelf and even though he’s on his tip-toes and his fingers are scrabbling, Jimin can’t quite get it. Taehyung hip checks him to the side and throws a knee onto the counter to lever himself up and grab the bottle. He even pops the top before giving it to Jimin, who thanks him and downs three along with a gulp of water. 

“I’m alright, I guess. Sore.” Jimin leans against the counter and tips his head back to stare at the ceiling. “This isn’t the end. The Aces guys said it and we all know it.”

“Jesus.” Taehyung runs a hand down his face and grimaces. “This is only going to escalate.”

They look at each other. Taehyung’s face is uneasy and it looks like he’s deciding if it’s a good idea to say something. He tilts his head to the side and squints at Jimin, sizing him up, before huffing out a breath and shrugging. “I know, ah, I know some people. Some guys from…well, I just know them and they might be able to, well-” The words stumble on his tongue, painful to listen to. 

“Lemme stop you right there,” Jimin interrupts, tone wry. “If they’re half as scary as you’re making them sound, I think we’re better off trying to figure this out by ourselves.”

Now Taehyung’s whole body sags when he breathes out. “Uh, yeah. That’s probably for the better. Not a favor I want to owe, you know?” He beams like the words that just came out of his mouth aren’t terrifying. Jimin just snorts helplessly and tosses the bottle of painkillers onto the counter. 

They file back into the living room, where Namjoon’s leaning up against the wall, arms crossed and face like a brooding thunderstorm. Seokjin’s sitting up against his legs, partly because they touch each other all the time and partly to keep him from charging off into the night and breaking people’s arms. It’s not even that Namjoon’s a violent guy. He’s incredibly gentle with children and the elderly and when you get him talking about art, his eyes goes adorably starry and he gets the biggest, most contagious smile. When things get down and dirty and he’s looking out for his friends, however, he can be counted on to hold his own and maybe break a few arms. Jimin’s never personally seen it happen, but Seokjin told him about a time or two one late night at the café over matching bottles of beer. 

Jimin settles onto the couch beside Hoseok, who’s berating Jungkook for picking such an unbalanced fight, looking like he’s about to throw his arms around the man and squeeze the stuffing out of him. The only reason he’s holding back is because Jungkook might punch him or push him off the couch if he tries anything. 

The fussing and outrage burns itself out after a while and they’re left looking at each other somberly, a current of anger and hurt running through the room. 

Finally, Jimin’s had enough. He’s beat, literally, and exhausted. “Alright everyone, get out of my apartment.” Jungkook has the gall to look hurt. “Not you.” His face relaxes. “The café’s still opening tomorrow, so I’m sure I’ll see you there.”

No one argues about Jimin keeping the café open. Not only would it be futile, but no one wants to piss him off, especially on a night when he’s already teetering on the edge of a full-fledged freak out. 

Namjoon gives Jungkook and Jimin a serious nod before disappearing out the door at light speed. Seokjin stumbles to his feet, tells them to be careful and call if they need anything, and races out after his significant other. 

“Take care of yourselves,” Hoseok orders, emphasizing every word as if that will make them stick in their heads better. Taehyung pats Jimin on the arm. “Call us when you get to the café tomorrow morning.”

“And you’ll be up that early?” Jimin chuckles.

“True,” Hoseok says, smiling lopsidedly, but Taehyung nods. “It doesn’t matter even if I’m not. Call and let us know that you’re okay. If you don’t, I’ll assume the worst.”

“Yes, mother,” Jimin says, shooing them toward the door. 

After a final, sloppy salute, they’re gone. Jimin closes the door and flips every lock before turning to see Jungkook slouched into the couch cushions. “Can we just go to bed?” Jungkook nods and follows Jimin to the bathroom to get ready. 

They both fall into bed and curl up to each other in the middle, naked skin warm on contact. Jimin slings his arm over Jungkook’s chest and as the lamp’s flicked off, different scenarios run through his head. First, it’s just the events of the night, but they soon spiral into terrible images and hypotheticals. It’s his own damn imagination, meaning he should be able to tame it, but the pictures are impossible to block. Jungkook on the ground, stabbed or shot or hit in the head just a little too hard. His café burning to the ground, smoke choking the air. 

Jimin doesn’t even realize it when he starts to shake, but Jungkook’s arms tighten around him and any tears that escape are stopped by the warm chest rising and falling beneath his cheek. 

It’s surrounded by the person he loves that Jimin manages to fall asleep.

***

“Are you really going to hang around here all day? Don’t you have anywhere to be?” Jimin swings a wet towel from his shoulder over the top wall of the counter and stares at Jungkook, who’s nursing a coffee at his special table. 

The blank stare is answer enough. 

Shaking his head, Jimin grabs a new towel and sends Yoongi off for more peach syrup. It’s been a quiet morning, well, as quiet as it gets now that Seokjin’s apartment lives in his café part time. There hasn’t been a peep from any of the Aces and, more suspiciously, Hoseok, Taehyung, Namjoon, and Seokjin. The overprotective goon squad has yet to make an appearance, but that just may be because Jungkook is in full watchdog mode.

The bell above the door jingles an accompaniment to the sound of voices. Speak of the devil. Jimin calls out a greeting to his friends, three of whom stumble in yawning. Seokjin grins, disgustingly clear-eyed and bushy-tailed. “How’s it been?” he asks while the rest of them drop into chairs at an empty table. 

“Quiet.” Jimin smiles a little and begins to put together the group’s usual drinks. 

“I’ve been worked to the bone,” Yoongi mumbles from the espresso machine. 

“Sleeping isn’t working, Yoongi!” Hoseok teases, but his voice is lacking much of his usual sass and the comment ends on a jaw-cracking yawn. 

Taehyung has his drooping head propped up on a fist. He pokes Hoseok in the shoulder. “You’re one to talk about sleeping. You’re about to take a header into the table.”

Namjoon’s doing a much better job of looking awake, probably due to his dark sunglasses and ramrod straight posture. Jimin spies Seokjin’s hand tucked away behind the other man’s waist; he can’t tell if he’s holding Namjoon up or it’s an affection thing. 

“Why is Seokjin the only one awake this morning?” Jimin asks. Seokjin’s coffee is finished and Yoongi’s working on Hoseok’s, so he’ll do Namjoon’s tea next. “He’s the only one who has the right to be tired; he works nights.”

“Hey! We worked a night. Last night,” Hoseok objects haughtily.

“We _were_ out all night,” Taehyung adds.

Jimin’s hands Seokjin his drink. “…and what exactly were you doing?” He makes sure not to pick anything up because the answer will probably make him drop it.

Hoseok looks at Taehyung, and they both look over at Namjoon, who remains stoic behind his glasses. Seokjin obviously knows what happened because he’s tight-lipped and refuses to look Jimin in the face. Jungkook looks just as puzzled, which is only a small comfort.

Either the floor has turned to sand, making Jimin’s feet unsteady, or his knees have gone weak. “Oh my god. What did you do?” He barely notices when Jungkook gently coaxes him into a chair.

Hoseok and Taehyung look uncomfortable now, their little smiles replaced by worried frowns. Namjoon slowly pulls off his shades and carefully folds them, face blank.

Seokjin glances at everyone seated at the table and opens his mouth to speak, but Namjoon cuts him off before he can begin. “No, Seokjin. It was my idea.” He gently sets his sunglasses on the table and slides them forward. He looks straight into Jimin’s eyes. “ We trashed every Aces tag we could find and bombed every wall of their main hangout last night.”

Jimin slumps back into his chair like the air’s been punched out of him. “You-”

“WHAT?” Jungkook shouts. His chair skids back and barely avoids toppling over. All eyes in the café focus on their table, but Jungkook doesn’t notice. “Do you know what that’s gonna do?” He glares at Namjoon, teeth bared in a growl.

“Jungkook.” Jimin tugs on his arm, but the man doesn’t budge.

Namjoon’s face is still blank, but Hoseok looks like he’s a second away from shoving his chair back and matching Jungkook blow for blow. Taehyung just looks shocked, like he didn’t realize Jungkook could yell in the first place.

Jungkook yanks his arm away from Jimin and stabs an accusing finger at Namjoon. “As if yesterday wasn’t bad enough. Now you gotta bring all of them down on our heads all at once?”

Hoseok stands and plants his hands on the table top. “Like things weren’t fucked already,” he counters. “Beating the shit out of them yesterday already sent the message that you wouldn’t take it lying down.”

It’s like the rest of the café has faded from their awareness. Jimin can see some patrons still staring, but most are studiously looking away, either to give them an illusion of privacy or because they’re embarrassed by the dramatic scene playing out. There’s a little boy, from Namjoon’s apartment complex, he thinks, that’s peeking at them from behind his father’s book bag. The child is staring warily with big eyes as the shouting continues, and that’s it. Jimin’s had enough. 

“Hey.” He pulls on Jungkook’s arm, but he’s shaken off without garnering the smallest glance. 

“How irresponsible can you be, Namjoon?” Jungkook’s bellowing. “I thought you left all that punk shit behind after your second arrest!”

“That’s a low blow,” Hoseok belts back, hands curling into fists. 

“What were you gonna do, Jungkook?” Namjoon adds, practically sneering. 

The heated argument picks back up and it Taehyung’s clenched jaw say he’s about to wade into the fray.

“Hoseok, Namjoon, Jungkook! This is not the time or place!” But they ignore him. 

Mr. Yoo catches Jimin’s eyes from over the lip of his coffee mug.

“HEY!”

Everyone within a ten-foot radius jumps a little and silence instantly rings through the café. His friends are startled enough that their conversations breaks of mid-word. Jimin meets each of their eyes and points toward the front door. 

“Out.”

Seokjin stands slowly, face grim.

“Get out of my café.”

The entire room watches as the five men file to the front of the café and disappear onto the patio. Jimin, standing alone, takes a few fortifying breaths before following. Yoongi nods from behind the counter and Jimin knows he’ll handle things until this mess is taken care of.

When Jimin emerges from the building, the group is spread out across the thankfully empty patio, not looking at each other. Seokjin is with Namjoon, of course, and Taehyung is speaking lowly into Hoseok’s ear. Jungkook is leaning against the wall just outside the door with crossed arms, aggravation clear. Jimin’s impressed the stress hasn’t driven him to light up. 

“Really?” Jimin instantly has everyone’s attention. “I have enough trouble drawing customers as it is and you decided to make a scene in the middle of the morning crowd? What the hell is wrong with you?” He turns to face each of them, making sure no one thinks they’re off the hook. 

Jungkook has the good sense to look ashamed, as do Taehyung and Seokjin, but Namjoon and Hoseok are wearing angry, mulish expressions. 

Despite how bad of an idea it may be, Jimin steps up into their space and jabs his finger in Namjoon’s chest. “ _Do not fuck with me right now._ ”

Hoseok and Namjoon both involuntarily flinch back. 

“I appreciate you wanting to help me, but now I won’t be surprised if the Aces make good on the threat to burn the place down,” Jimin hisses. 

“They threatened to what?” Hoseok snaps.

“You heard me,” Jimin shoots back, “Now _step back_ and _shut up_.”

Hoseok does exactly that, but Jimin can read the hurt on his face. He doesn’t feel bad about it, not now.

Seokjin, ever the peacekeeper, comes forward. “It’s too late now. We have to deal with it.”

Jimin’s raised eyebrows communicate that they were morons to attack the Aces in the first place, but Seokjin carries on. “Jimin, Jungkook, I’ll have you know that afterward, we-”

“Aw, look here. If it isn’t the boyfriends and the rest of their idiotic goon squad.”

They all whip around to see the Aces leader from the day before. His face is bruised to shit, but his smirk is cruel and confident. Ugly, Shorty, and eight other Aces swagger up to the patio behind him.

Jungkook steps in front of Jimin, face thunderous. The three graffiti artists are at full attention, but Jimin wants to avoid a brawl in front of Dark & Wild at all costs. Not only would it put his customers in danger, but the Aces are likely armed. Jimin is not going to hose his friends’ blood off his patio if it can be helped.

“Heard about someone hitting all your tags last night,” Namjoon says, all casual. It’s incredible how quickly his attitude does a one-eighty, but even he can’t hide the glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. “That’s rough, man.”

“Oh yeah!” Leader says, thumping the heel of his hand against his forehead. “Now I remember. We came to visit because we thought you might know something about that. Ain’t that right, guys?”

Shorty, who’s sporting a rather nasty black eye, nods. “We’re counting on it.”

Ugly has a lighter tucked into his palm and he starts toying with it. The flame dances for a few seconds before he blows it out and lights it again, staring meaningfully at the café all the while.

“If an ass-ugly gang tag gets covered in the middle of the night and there’s no one to see it, does anyone give a shit?” Hoseok drawls.

Wow. This not provoking them thing is going swimmingly.

“Listen up here, you little shit.” Leader leans in and hauls Hoseok up by his shirt collar. Jimin starts forward and wonders why no one but him and Jungkook seem worried that Hoseok’s a second away from getting his face punched in. Taehyung’s surprisingly complacent and even Seokjin is rocking back on his heels with a neutral expression. 

“What?” Hoseok smirks. “You gonna hit me? Go ahead. I bet I’ve had worse mosquito bites.”

Namjoon‘s got his ‘so you think you’re hot shit’ expression on, practically daring the Aces leader to take a swing.

“Hoseok…” Jimin warns.

“Don’t worry about it, Jimin,” he replies, pulled to his tip-toes by the tight grip on his shirt. Ugly keeps flicking his damn lighter and the rest of the gang is starting murmur and fidget restlessly. “The most that can happen is this idiot throws a punch and breaks his hand on my hard head.”

“We know you guys are the ones who messed with our tags, you stupid fucks!” Leader bellows, giving Hoseok a hard shake. 

The café patrons have gathered by the few clear spots in the windows and the door, watching the spectacle unfold. Great. This is going to end up on Youtube. 

Hoseok smiles and Taehyung actually laughs. “Tags?” he asks, stepping up by Hoseok. “Hey Namjoon, do you remember hitting any tags last night?”

Namjoon shrugs, holding his arms out in apparent confusion. “Nah, can’t say I do. Hoseok?”

Hoseok’s smile turns devilish. “Tags, no. I do recall covering up some stupid-ass signs, but I thought it was the scribbles of idiot ten-year-olds figuring out how to hold a paint can for the first time.”

“You motherfucker!” 

And then a few things happen at once: Jimin rushes forward with Jungkook at his side; Leader socks Hoseok in the face, which sends him to the ground; Taehyung steps over Hoseok with fists at the ready; and Donghae, Eunghyuk, and Jiho burst from the café’s front door in full uniform, each holding a cup of coffee that is promptly deposited onto the patio table. 

The Aces start to scatter as soon as they realize cops are on the scene. Leader tries to make a break for it, but Taehyung’s got him by the wrist and is holding on for all he’s worth. Seokjin crouches by Hoseok, who is slowly sitting up. Blood is gushing from his nose, but he exudes satisfaction.

Jiho vaults over the patio railing and manages to snag Ugly and another guy. Shorty is already cuffed. Jimin can hear Donghae say something about vandalism, assault, and threats of arson.

More officers materialize from the surrounding alleys and buildings, various Aces towed behind them. It’s like a con parade. One of the policemen, Jihoon if Jimin remembers correctly, is sporting a bloody lip. “Add assaulting an officer to the list, Donghae.” His catch ends up handcuffed to the patio rail.

Namjoon is talking to Eunhyuk off to the side, nodding seriously and pointing at Dark & Wild. 

Jimin looks over at Jungkook. “This was-”

“-a set up,” Jungkook finishes. 

“Jesus Christ,” Jimin mutters, leaning back onto his boyfriend. 

Seokjin and Hoseok walk over. It looks like he finally has the bleeding under control, but his hands are encrusted in drying blood. Jimin feels Jungkook rifle around in his pockets. He eventually pulls out a crumpled napkin and offers it to Hoseok, who gratefully accepts. 

“As I was saying,” Seokjin continues, like his sentence hadn’t been interrupted by a gang fight,” after they covered all the tags, I called Donghae and we had a nice, long chat.”

“How did you know to have Officer Donghae and them here now? The Aces could have come any time,” Jungkook asks, breath tickling Jimin’s ear. 

Seokjin’s eyes cut away for a moment. “I have some contacts keeping an eye on the Aces.”

So is anyone Jimin associates with not tied to the criminal underworld? Is there something about him that draws these kind of people? Is there a way to turn it off? “I thought you were the good one!” he practically wails. Jungkook has the gall to laugh.

Seokjin smiles blandly and carries on. “When they started to move, my contacts let me know. I called the police and had them go in the back so the Aces wouldn’t get spooked.”

“And the argument?”

Hoseok dabs at his nose and winces. “Yeah, that was real. Good timing on kicking us out, by the way.”

“Nobody brought me in on their little plan,” Jungkook grumbles.

Namjoon and Taehyung wander over with Officer Donghae in their wake. “The three who assaulted you last night are going down to the station,” the cop tells them. “We’ll contact you later about pressing charges. In the meantime, we’ll see if we can’t get them to admit to the vandalism.”

Jimin steps out of Jungkook’s grip to shake Donghae’s hand. “Thanks, officer.”

“You make me coffee at least three times a week and I’ve almost arrested your boyfriend more than once. Just call me Donghae already.” He drops Jimin’s hand and pulls him into a half hug.

“Thanks Donghae.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jungkook echoes, sounding sincere for once. 

“That’s Officer Lee to you, punk,” but Donghae’s grinning and delivers a hearty slap to Jungkook’s back. 

It’s not long until the Aces are hauled away. The officers grab their coffees and disappear. Everyone else heads into the café. Namjoon and Seokjin field concerned questions from the customers while Hoseok and Taehyung disappear into the bathroom to clean up Hoseok’s bloody face and hands.

“Everything okay?” Yoongi asks. He hands Jimin his favorite mocha latte, the clever man.

Jimin leans against the counter and takes a grateful sip. “Should be. We can press charges against the main three for a start. Now I just need to figure out how to clean up the front. That paint’s not coming off.”

Jungkook touches Jimin’s arm, both to catch his attention and just to touch him. “I think I have a solution for that. One sec.” He disappears around the counter toward his special table.

Yoongi just shrugs when Jimin looks at him in askance. 

It only takes a minute for Jungkook to return with something in his hands. “Here.”

“Isn’t this Hoseok’s…?”

Indeed, it is Hoseok’s sketchbook. Jimin’s seen him tote it around day after day. The man can usually be found at a table in the back, head ducked over his sketchbook with art supplies balanced in precarious piles. 

Jungkook gestures for him to go on and look inside. With a lingering glance at Jungkook, Jimin flips it open and turns to the latest page.

“Wha-, Jungkook, what is this?” Jimin can tell exactly what it is, but the why and how elude him. There’s a two-page spread of his café sketched out in intimate detail. Instead of offensive graffiti, the front is decorated with a lovingly-colored mural of coffee and customers and Jimin and Yoongi in their aprons up by the corner. It looks like happiness and family and home. 

“Oh yeah,” Hoseok says, appearing over Jimin’s shoulder. 

Taehyung looks over the other shoulder. “Wow, that really turned out nice.” 

They both slip around and join the circle. “It was Jungkook’s idea.” Hoseok explains, tapping on the tiny likeness of Jimin’s face. “He even told us what to include. I just drew it out and helped with the colors.”

“It’s beautiful,” Jimin says, sounding awed. He shoves the sketchbook into Hoseok’s hands without warning, which allows him to turn to the side and yank Jungkook into a kiss. His boyfriend is startled enough that he doesn’t reciprocate immediately, but he sinks into Jimin’s mouth quickly enough. 

“See?” Jimin can hear Seokjin telling one of the patrons. “They’ll be fine.”

And they are.

Namjoon, Hoseok, and Taehyung start to paint the mural the very next day. Jimin watches as the first stripes of color go on and every stroke makes him feel like he’s glowing inside. It’s freeing to see the hateful, bigoted words obliterated by friends he loves. Well, friends who demand free coffee in return for their work even though they technically volunteered. Their clever (insane) plan got the gang off his back (even if was more or less their fault in the first place), so he supplies them with caffeine and the occasional scone.

Jimin catches Mr. Lee and Mr. Yoo one morning soon after The Incident on their way out to the patio, which is their preferred spot. “I just wanted to thank you for your business,” he says, fidgeting under their gaze. “I don’t know if I’d still be open if everyone didn’t keep showing up.”

Mr. Lee places a hand on Jimin’s shoulder. “You are a good man.”

“And your coffee is excellent,” Mr. Yoo chimes.

“You have a great business going here, not to mention the compassion and kindness you show by taking in those troublemakers.” They all glance at Namjoon and the rest of the crew, who are harassing Yoongi. 

“All of us don’t keep coming here just because Seokjin originally asked us,” Mr. Yoo assures him. 

‘That man is way too perceptive,’ Jimin thinks, worries alleviated. 

Mr. Lee nods toward Miss Hahn and her fiancé over at their customary table. “Ask anyone here and they’ll tell you Dark & Wild is a treasure.”

Jimin feels himself blush. “Thank you.”

Mr. Yoo pats him on the back and they both disappear outside.

It takes another week for the boys to finish the mural. When Namjoon drops the last can of paint into his bag Hoseok gives him a high five and Jungkook runs in to drag Jimin from the café. 

Of course, the mural makes him cry. He tries valiantly to hide it from his friends, but Jungkook catches his hands swiping at his eyes too many times to come to any other conclusion. The nice thing is that they don’t tease him too much. If anything, Namjoon, Hoseok, and Taehyung look inordinately pleased with themselves and insist on smothering Jimin in hugs. 

Not only does the mural include everything his café represents, but he can pick out three distinctive styles that blend beautifully. 

With the mural complete, Jimin can finally have the windows replaced. It only takes another day and the small business Mrs. Cho recommended finishes their work quickly and with minimal fuss. 

Every customer that comes in over the next week gushes about the mural. Business has picked up overall, not in small part due to Namjoon and Seokjin’s network recommending Dark & Wild to their friends and families. Hell, the local news ran a story on the vandalism and the subsequent renovation of the storefront. 

There’s still one thing missing. 

On one of the few days the café is closed, Jimin sneaks out of bed, leaving a softly breathing Jungkook tangled in the sheets. All he grabs are a set of brushes and the keys to the café. The weather is beautiful, meaning the blue sky is nothing short of a breath of life. The sight of the mural and new windows makes Jimin grin so hard his cheeks hurt. He wouldn’t replace his friends for anything.

There’s a small collection of paint cans huddled on the bottom shelf in the back room. They haven’t seen the light of day since Jimin first opened Dark & Wild, but it’s time to bust them out again. So he drags the patio chair over to the big window, pops the lids off the cans with his house keys, dips the brushes in, and begins to paint. 

By the time the big window proudly declares this building is the home of Dark & Wild, it’s past noon. Sweat’s dripping down the back of Jimin’s neck and the poor flowers are a little more colorful than they used to be. 

“Lookin’ good.”

Jimin twists to see Jungkook lounging against the railing, the butt of a cigarette balanced between his fingers. He smiles. “Yeah, I think so.”

Jungkook stubs his smoke out, pockets the butt, and ducks in for a kiss. 

 

“…dude, your mouth tastes like ass.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”


End file.
